Ain't That Lucky
by ThatBlueScreenGuy
Summary: It's always good to have the luckiest guy in the room at your back. On the hunt for her son in a world gone mad, Elizabeth will take whatever help she can get. He's a loudmouth troublemaker who's too carefree for his own good, but he's done this dance before. Place your bets. Lady Luck loves this guy.
1. Chapter 1

Elizabeth had always hated the rain.

The fact that the rain nowadays could be pouring pure radiation onto you only added to that.

She stepped inside the Dugout Inn and shook off the water that clung to her clothes, a shitty undershirt and jeans with a pair of ill-fitted converse sneakers, little water droplets flinging off her worn leather armor. She gave a quick check to the pistol at her hip to make sure the water hadn't ruined anything. Only mildly confident that everything was in order, she continued farther into the Inn.

Elizabeth had only been here once before, and that was only for a few minutes to ask around for anyone that might be able to help her find her son. The bartender was an incredibly odd man with a terrible sense of humor (he had jokingly asked her to kill the terrified DJ of Diamond City Radio as a way of breaking the ice), but he seemed kind enough and his information had led her to the place she needed to go; Valentine Detective Agency. This was earlier today.

The reason she found herself back in Diamond City and not wherever this Nick Valentine was being held was because she hadn't been smart. She left too late in the day and hadn't made it to where Nick could be found in time to get out of the city before dark.

She had been caught in Boston proper at night once before, on her way to Diamond City for the first time.

She wasn't about to make that mistake again.

So, she had to make a retreat, or else get assaulted by the various unpleasant denizens of the city that liked to come out at night. She'd rest up at the Dugout, get some supplies in the morning, then head back out to the subway so she could find the detective. And then it had started to rain on her. It was cold and radioactive, more than the Commonweath normally is, once it began to rain.

And aside from her leather armor, all she was wearing was a white tee shirt.

So, no. She didn't like the rain.

As she made her way to the bar, she heard Vadim call from behind it to her. "My friend! Welcome back! You find Nick alright? City can be confusing to newcomers!"

Elizabeth nodded her head. "Yeah, I guess. It… Didn't pan out like I thought it would."

The bartender tilted his head. "Valentine isn't known for turning people down! He did not kick you back into street, did he? Vadim will have a talk with him, if you like!"

She waved a hand dismissively. "No, no. Nothing like that. He wasn't there. That's the problem. I was going to go out and find him today, but…" She shrugged, a bit embarrassed with herself. "I didn't plan it out properly, and had to come back before it got dark."

Vadim nodded wisely. "Ah, yes. The city outside can be very dangerous. More at night. It was smart of you to come back. Nick is good at his job. He will be fine for another night, this I know. You need a place to rest, then, yes? Perhaps a drink? If you wish for company and to make caps, there is poker game going on in back room! 25 cap buy in! Very cheap, very friendly!"

"A bed to sleep in, please. That would be best."

Vadim nodded. "I will tell Yefim. Pay up front. You do not wish anything else? Drink? Food? The game in back?"

Drink and food sounded lovely, if the sound of her growling stomach told her anything. And when was the last time that she stopped to play a game with anyone, just to relax and unwind for a bit?

Not since that bomb dropped over two hundred years ago and ended the world as she knew it.

Since she came out of that freezer where her baby had been taken and her husband had been… Well, it's all been very frantic and crazy and there was very little time to stop and think. It's just been a flurry of guns and blood and guts and death, and even when she went to sleep she never really had the time to stop and think. She was scared and alone and confused by the 'brave new world' she found herself in, and the sleep she got wasn't enough to put her mind at ease. Even in her dreams, her thoughts race a mile a minute when they weren't stopped dead by the absolute terror and fear of reliving that moment again and again and _again and again_.

Her baby was taken from her. She didn't have the time to stop and play games and make friends.

Except, now she did. It was the first time since getting out of that Vault that she had to stop and wait before she could get going again.

How long had it been since she crawled out of the ground and into the light of the irradiated waste that was now her home? A week? A little over? And what did she have to show for it? News scars, physical and mental, that she never thought she'd have and not a friend in sight. Not even someone to share a meal with.

Just over a week and she was already hideously lonely.

She missed her neighbors. She missed her coworkers. She missed her parents. She missed her baby. She missed Andrew.

It was too early for her to consider going to sleep. It was too late for her to go about town and look at wares for tomorrow. And it was only one card game. Maybe she'd make some friends.

As she handed Vadim the cash for her room for the night, she asked him, "Where's this card game, again?"

/\\\\\

There weren't that many people playing, though for a poker game it was perhaps an average amount. Only four others sat at the table as Vadim showed her in. She'd be the fifth.

"My friends," Vadim said (he seemed to call everyone that). "We have another player, if there is the room for her."

One of the players, a rough looking man with an angry looking scar that ran across his forehead and a haircut that reminded her of a few too many of the raiders that she has run into in the past few days, looked her up and down perhaps a bit _too_ appraisingly. "She have the buy in?"

Elizabeth pulled out twenty five caps and jangled them in her hand. "Easy enough," she said.

The rough man grunted. "Whatever. Sit down and let me take your money."

The man sitting across from the raider lookalike clicked his tongue at the speaker. "Now now, Hermond. That any way to treat a guest? This is a friendly environment! There's no need to be so rude." This man wore a red hoodie sweater with the hood up over a grey wool knit cap.

"Easy for you to say," a severe looking woman who wore far too much makeup, especially for the wasteland, spat. "You're the one taking all of our damn money."

'Hermond' turned the scowl that seemed to perpetually grace his face onto the hooded man. "I ain't entirely convinced you're not cheating. Best watch yourself, asshole." The scowl then seemed to get deeper, and he growled. "And my name is _Hank_."

The hooded man's smile lit up even brighter and he waggled a finger at Hank. "You don't fool me, Hermond. I know all about you and your little friends at Hardware City. I even paid them a visit. Had a few drinks with them. Now, what kind of hardened crook like yourself would ever allow a name like Hermond to go unknown by the world? It's the kind of name that can strike fear into the hearts of men! You should use it more often, Hermond."

Hank looked like he was about ready to jump across the table and strangle the hooded man, until the fourth and final member of the table, an older man with a long beard that looked like it could use a proper trimming, spoke up, sounding almost tired, like he'd been dealing with this all night. "Can we please get back to the game? I'm dealing." He turned to Elizabeth. "Miss, are you going to join us or just keep standing there?"

Elizabeth nodded, taking a seat next to the older man and the man in the hood. "Sure. Deal me in."

The first round went quick enough. After the blinds were paid and the cards were dealt, Elizabeth found herself with a nice pair of fives after all the community cards are placed. By the end, the other woman and the older man had already folded, and when it came time to show the cards, Elizabeth thought she would win. The Hermond or Hank or whatever had only a pair of threes.

The guy in the hood had a three of a kind. Fives.

Annoying, but only the first hand she'd been dealt. More cards were dealt. More bets made.

After perhaps the fifth hand, Elizabeth noticed something.

The hooded guy was always winning. Every single hand that had been dealt so far has gone in his favor, even the ones where he honestly had no way of winning at all.

The game continued for a few more hands. He just kept winning. Judging by the moods of pretty much everyone else at the table, he had been winning for a good while before she had showed up.

Eventually, after yet another win in the hooded guy's corner, someone snapped. Inevitably, it was the rough looking man.

"You're a fucking cheat."

The hooded guy looked up from his cards, blinking at the man across from him. "Was that directed at me?"

Hank shot up from his seat and slammed his hands down onto the table. "You're a goddamn cheat, you fuck! Give me my fucking caps back, _now_."

Elizabeth's eyes flickered down, and she saw that Hermond was carrying. A revolver, it looked like, and not one of those shitty ones made from rusted pipes. A real one. .44 magnum rounds, she thought, although she couldn't remember exactly. All she knew was they packed a punch.

If they guy in the hood noticed the gun too, he didn't show it. He just kept calmly talking to Hank. This wasn't the first person he had pissed off in cards. "Calm down now, Hermond. No need to get violent. And I won those caps fair and square. If you didn't want to lose them, you shouldn't have bet them. We _are_ gambling, after all."

Hermond leaned in over the table to try and loom over the hooded guy. "I'm fine with losing my caps in a _fair_ game of cards. You are a fucking cheat. And I don't much like cheats. Now hand over the caps, or else the wall behind you is gonna get a new paint job."

The hooded guy's eyes flicked to the gun at the man's hip. "I have a bit of a different idea."

Hank's hand came to rest on the butt of his pistol. "Speak carefully, cheat."

The hooded man placed his hands flat onto the table, making it obvious that he wasn't doing anything. "Here's what I have in mind. You and me, let's play one more hand. All or nothing. You win, you get the entire winnings for the night. I win, I keep it. It's around 300 caps. I did the math. Just one more hand, you and me."

Hank sneered. "And what stops you from cheating again, huh? You think I'm some kind of idiot? No. Now give me my fucking caps."

"I won't look at or even touch my hand."

Elizabeth had to turn and look at the hooded guy, if only to see if he had turned into some crazy nutjob just now. He must have, making a deal like that.

He rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie, then placed his elbows on the desk, his hands open in the air. "I'll leave my hands right here. You can watch me. I won't touch or look at my cards. I'll play whatever cards I'm dealt. I win, I get to keep the winnings. You win? You get your caps back and more besides. We have a deal?"

Hank seemed to stare at the man for a moment. Then his hand eased off his gun and he sat himself back down in his chair. He jerked his head at the woman sitting next to him, who was holding the cards. "Deal."

The hooded man smiled. "Glad we can be civilized about this." He nodded to the woman on his other side as well. "Please deal, if you'd be so kind?"

The woman, who seemed a bit shaken by the sudden threats of the game, nodded, and dealt the cards to the two men.

Hank looked at his cards as the community cards were being dealt. He seemed to smile at what he saw.

The hooded man's cards stayed near the middle of the table, untouched. The hooded man smiled too, though Elizabeth had no idea what at. He was going to lose. He had to. There was no way he would win this.

He had to know that. Yet he didn't fold.

All five community cards were dealt. A three, two kings, and two aces.

Then came time to show the cards you were dealt.

Hank laughed openly at the man across from him, slamming his cards down onto the table.

Four of a kind. Kings.

The smile on the hooded man's face didn't faulter in the slightest. He turned to her, gave her what must have been his most winsome smile, and said, "Hi there. Would you mind flipping my cards for me?"

Elizabeth blinked. "Uh. Sure?" And she did, flipping them over for everyone to see.

And her jaw dropped at what was staring her in the face.

Four of a kind. Aces.

He had fucking won.

What the shit?

Everyone stared at the cards in absolute shock. No one could quite believe what they were seeing. Least of all Hank.

Suddenly, Hank roared in fury, shooting up from his chair and flipping the entire table over to the side, having it tumble and crash on top of the woman off to the side. Hank drew his gun, took a single step forward, and placed the barrel onto the hooded man's forehead.

The hooded man almost seemed unconcerned.

Hank pulled the trigger.

Elizabeth flinched in anticipation of the gunshot resounding through the air. When she looked back up, she expected to find the hooded man dead on the floor, a fresh bullet wound bleeding out of his brain.

Instead, she saw him just sitting in his chair, staring up at Hank who looked down at his gun in shock.

Lots of shock going around, it seemed.

Then he moved in a blur of motion, landing a single strike against Hank's chest. Just one. The armed man collapsed onto the ground, wheezing in an attempt to try and get some air, curling into a fetal ball.

The hooded man bent over and picked up the revolver. He popped out the cylinder and took a look at the rounds housed there. Then he started to laugh. He turned the gun around and showed it to Elizabeth, like she was his confidante in all this. "The idiot had already fired two shots today. He didn't reload them."

Sure enough, looking in the cylinder, two of the six rounds had already been fired, the primer on the back of the rounds already blackened from the striking of the hammer. And somehow, the hammer had landed back on one of those rounds when he went to shoot the hooded guy. One bullet over, and he would have been dead. Yet somehow, he wasn't.

That lucky son of a bitch.

He pocketed the pistol into his hoodie. "Well, I suppose that's my cue to leave. Ladies, gents, it's been an honor to take your money. See you next time." Then he just strode out of the room.

Elizabeth looked around the room at all that had happened. Hank on the floor, struggling to catch his breath. Caps and cards scattered across the floor. The table still on top of the woman, who hefted the thing off of her. And here she was just looking to make some friends around town.

The older man next to her sighed. "I hate playing cards with him…"

Elizabeth turned to face him. "You know who that was?"

He nodded. "James Regan. A man too lucky for his own good."

"He seems like… Quite the character."

The older man snorted. "That's a kind way of putting it. He's certainly an experience, though. Bet what caps I have left that he's gone to the bar to get something hard enough to get him to pass out tonight."

Something inside of her told her that she should go find him. He seemed interesting. She wanted to go talk to him.

So, she got up, saying, "Thanks for the game, I guess," and walked out after the hooded man.

/\\\\\

"Vadim! Give me your strongest that won't kill me!"

Elizabeth walked back out into the main room to find the man she was looking for at the bar, speaking with the Russian man. There was a gentle buzz around the room, being more crowded than when she had first stepped in.

"You need Bobrov's Best! Nothing gets drunk quicker!"

He laughed. "I said something that _won't_ kill me!"

"This was one time! We change recipe!"

The man shook his head. "Fine, fine. I just wanna get drunk tonight, okay?"

Vadim slid the hooded man a white bottle with a piece of tape over the label that had the words 'Bobrov's Best' on it. The hooded man exchanged caps with the bartender. Then he noticed Elizabeth siddle up to him next to the bar. "Well, hello there. You play a mean game of Hold 'Em."

"I play a mean game?" She echoed back. "You were the one that cleaned house."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Ah, I'm just lucky. You held your own, though. Nice to see someone with actual skill at the game."

Elizabeth gave him a skeptical look. "Lucky? I'd say it was a bit more than luck. That show you put on back there was impressive. How did you know that you were going to win?"

He shrugged. "I never know I'm going to win. I just do. If I seem like I know I'm gonna win, it's because confidence is everything. You'd be surprised what a confident stride and the right clothes can do for you." He turned to face her, holding out his hand. "James Regan."

She took his hand to shake. "Elizabeth."

He brought her hand up to his mouth and gave her knuckles a small kiss.

The corner of her mouth ticked up at the gesture. "Well, there's something I didn't think I'd see again. A gentleman."

James smiled. "That's my father in me. 'Junior,' he'd tell me, 'whenever you meet a woman, always treat her with every courtesy you have. They are the one's who bring us into this world, and they all deserve respect.' My father was just that kind of guy."

"Sounds like a good man."

His smile became perhaps a bit more brittle. "Yeah. He was." Then he shook his head, and poured himself a shot from the bottle in front of him. "Join me for a drink."

"Trying to liquor me up already? We only just met. And I'm married." No, she wasn't. Not anymore. Widowed. Not married.

His smile turned something bright again. "I've found it's always better to drink in company, rather than alone. And besides, I think you came over here to talk with me for a reason."

Elizabeth hummed. "I suppose that's true. Fine. One drink."

James' smile widened. "Excellent. Vadim! Get me another glass!"

After getting said glass, he gestured to a nearby empty table. The two sat opposite each other. "So," he said, "to what do I owe the pleasure of such a lovely woman's company?"

Elizabeth cradled the drink in her hands, not drinking just yet. "I'm new in town and thought I could use a friend or two. Figured I could meet some people at that card game in the back, but that didn't quite pan out."

"Ah." He nodded wisely. "Well, I should warn you that I'm not actually from town. I'm just passing through."

"Really? The bartender seems to know you pretty well."

He bobbed his head in allowance and downed his shot. "Well, I say passing through. I'm staying until they kick me out and I have to find another town to loiter in."

Elizabeth chuckled a bit. "Get kicked out of towns often?"

James smiled at her while he poured himself another round. "Enough that it's a pattern. I don't go looking to get kicked out, but you know how it is. Play the wrong guy at cards, sleep with the wrong person's daughter, drink the wrong person's booze. Then my ass is back out in the wasteland and I've gotta find my way to another bar just to start the whole thing over again."

"Well then. Someone's quite the rogue."

James seemed to take mock offense at that. "Rogue-ish. I'm a gentleman at heart, and I always will be. I just like to have some fun, that's all. Sometimes, people take offense at my fun. But hey, no harm done. There's always the next town. New people, new adventure." He downed his next shot. "So, what brings you to Diamond City?"

She looked down at her drink, still full in her hands. "I'm… Looking for someone."

"Ah. Anyone I know?"

"Nick Valentine."

James leaned back in his seat as he filled up his glass again. "Valentine? The synth?"

Elizabeth looked up at him questioningly. "Nick is a synth?"

"If we're talking about the same guy, yeah." He downed the shot. "Not one of those infiltration units everyone is so paranoid about. You can tell he's a robot. Got the metal claw and everything. But he's a good man. Haven't seen him around in a while, though. Is he missing?"

Elizabeth nodded. "That's what his assistant says."

"Ellie is no alarmist," he said thoughtfully. "If she's worried, then he might be in some real trouble. If you don't mind my asking, though, what do you need from Nick?"

Her gaze turned back down to her glass. She still hadn't taken so much as a sip. "Again, I'm looking for someone."

"Can I ask who?"

She paused for a moment. "My son."

His expression turned serious mid pour of another shot, and he put the bottle to the side. "Your son is missing?"

She nodded. "He's less than a year old. He… He was taken from me."

James grimaced. "Shit. How long has he been missing?"

"Something over a week, I think. It's hard to tell. It's all kind of blurred together."

He was silent for a moment before he spoke again. "I read somewhere that most children who are kidnapped are… Are killed within the first twenty four hours of being taken. Those that aren't are usually take with a specific purpose in mind." Tears started to well in Elizabeth's eyes, and he raised his hand in an attempt to placate. "I know it's not something you want to hear, but either your son was taken for a reason or…" Then he grimaced and turned away, looking almost sick at his own thought. Then he reached across the table and tapped a finger next to her shot glass. "Drink."

She gripped the glass in white knuckled hands, tears threatening to come rolling down her face. But she did as told, throwing back to liquor.

Then she almost immediately coughed up a lung.

More tears welled in her eyes, but this time from the sheer burning that rolled down her throat and into her stomach. "W-What the hell is this?" She said between coughs. "Did you give me p-paint thinner or something?"

James smiled at her. "Tastes like it, doesn't it? And yet, nothing will get you drunk quicker." He grabbed the bottle of the offending liquid and scrutinized it. "Really, that's the only thing it's got going for it. The very definition of shit moonshine."

Elizabeth just kept coughing. When James gestured the bottle at her to ask if she wanted another, she vigorously shook her head. "I'm not looking to die today."

James bobbed his head. "Yeah, that's fair." Then he looked her in the eye. "So, Elizabeth. Where are you headed? What's your next step?"

The woman in question sighed. "I have to head into the metro lines to try and find some vault that was built there. Ellie tells me that Nick is down there somewhere."

James nodded. "Let me come with you."

Elizabeth gave him a questioning look. "What?"

"You're from a Vault, right?" He nods at the Pipboy on her arm. "That's rare tech you've got there. Only find those in Vaults, and even then not always. So you must be from a Vault, right?"

Elizabeth nodded slowly. "Yeah…"

"You haven't been on the surface for very long, have you? You've got this look about you, a bit like a fish out of water. Trust me, I know the look." He crossed his arms and leaned forward onto the table. "You said that you were looking for friends. Well, let me come along. Wasteland can be a wild and wacky place. It's always better to have someone watching your back."

"That's true, but…" She shook her head. "I mean, you're asking to wander off with a complete stranger. Why do you want to come with me?"

James stared into her eyes for a long moment, and it was only just then that Elizabeth noticed that his eyes were perhaps the most fierce shade of blue she had ever seen before. Like cool glaciers that stared back at her. "Because I was in a situation a hell of a lot like yours. I was from a Vault too. And I was looking for someone. They kicked me out of my home, and when I got topside, it was… Jarring. The world was already over by the time I got there. I mean, I had known that the world was a wasteland, but knowing is different from seeing, yeah? And… And when I got out of there, I wanted nothing so much as to have someone watch my back. I needed a friend, and I didn't find any. None that would watch my back, anyway. It wasn't until later that I made some real friends. But at the beginning, it was lonely. Knowing what the world used to be and seeing what it was. Not having anyone with me. It was just me. And no one came to help me.

"I look at you, though, and I see the same thing. Someone who's just been introduced to a world that is vastly different from what you thought it was. Someone who looks like they need someone to help them out. I wanted so much for someone to come and rescue me from the hell that I was in. Granted, I wasn't even out of my teens by this time, so maybe I was being stupidly idealistic in wanting that, but… Well, I see a chance to help someone like I wanted to be helped. 'We are put on this Earth for the betterment of mankind, not our own selfish wants. If you have the talents, skills, and knowledge to help your fellow man, you should.'"

Elizabeth looked at him. "Your father again?"

James nodded. "He was a good man. Wanted to help save everyone. Even at the cost of everything dear to him." He spread his hands out. "Helping people is what I do. It's what I was raised to do. Let me help you find your son. Please."

Elizabeth just sort of stared at him. A complete stranger was here bearing his heart to her, offering to help her find her baby boy. So many people she had met so far were only looking out for them and theirs. They wouldn't help her. Not all of them were bad people, of course, just people looking out for number one. And there were the raiders that tried to kill her on sight. All of them were so focused on what mattered in their lives; survival. She didn't care about survival. She just wanted her baby back.

And here was this man, who seemed to give off an aura of luck as easily as he breathed, offering to help her find her son, simply because he wished to help. No payment needed. No ulterior motive. No lies. She had been a lawyer for a few years now, she could tell when she was being lied to. And this man, from the bottom of his heart, just wanted to help her find her son.

If he weren't sitting across an entire table from her, she would have hugged him. Instead, she just got a little choked up, nodded, and said, "Thank you."

The easy smile that seemed to be his face's natural expression grew back across his lips. "So, boss. We set out tomorrow?"

She nodded. "First thing in the morning." She cleared her throat, getting the extra emotion out of her tone. "Hopefully, it won't be too late to find Nick Valentine."

The smile on his face widened. "Groovy."


	2. Chapter 2

The echoing crack of continuous gunfire was an almost deafening cacophony in the subway tunnel.

The pair had barely even made it down the stairs onto the platform before more than half a dozen submachine guns started firing right at them. James had to outright push Elizabeth back into the cover of the low wall of the stair's railing, where she landed on her ass in time to watch more than a few rounds whiz into the space where her head would have been just a few moments ago.

Panic started to course it's way through her body, hammered all the harder by the heavy thumping of her heart in her chest. She must have looked outright terrified. She certainly felt it.

She looked up to see James had planted his back against the large concrete pillar at the base of the stairs, and was slipping something metal onto his right hand knuckles, taking out the pistol he had taken from Hank the day before. He looked like he was muttering something to himself.

The gunfire rattled more and more until it suddenly cut out. The last reverberation of the gunshots resounded through the space like the final note of a bombastic symphony. There was a moment where Elizabeth's heart froze mid beat, as though shocked into stopping at the sound of sudden silence.

"Did they run out of ammo?" She wanted to ask. But her ears rang at how loud the silence was, so she couldn't tell if the words had left her lips or not.

James tentatively peeked his head out the side of his cover.

And suddenly the world exploded back into noise.

James jerked his head back into cover as puffs of powdered concrete shot out of the pillar right where his head would have been. He turned to look at her. Her hearing came back to her as the noise deafened the room. She could hear him say, "Just reloading."

"We need a plan," she heard herself say.

He nodded. "Right. You have a grenade?"

She blinked at him, flinching at some of the bullets that landed too close to her than she would have liked. "A what?"

He waved his hand in a 'hurry up' kind of gesture. "You know, a grenade. Or a molotov or something. We need to get them out of cover so I can close the distance. So, again; grenade?"

"Uh." She twisted and started to rummage through the pack that she started carrying with her since she found herself in this wasteland. She felt confident in saying that she didn't have any grenades. Honestly, she was still intimidated by the pistol that she carried around. Why would she carry around _explosives_ if she was still afraid of using the 10mm sidearm she had?

Yet as the raging sound of the gunfire tore through the air around her, she knew she had to check anyway. She doubted that she'd find anything, but James seemed to have more of an idea than she did, so look she would.

No grenades.

She did, however, find the bottle of Bobrov's Best that the two had shared the night before. She had absolutely no idea what it was doing in her bag.

Elizabeth looked up and held out the bottle to James. "Would this work?"

He turned to look at her, then noticed the bottle she held out to him. "Well," he said. "It's no grenade. But it should work…" He took the bottle from her and twisted off the cap. Then he looked around for a moment, searching, only to give up and rip a part of his white undershirt off near the hem. He proceeded to stuff the thing into the bottle neck, then swirled the liquid inside around.

He held the thing at eye height, inspecting it. "Let's hope it works," he muttered over the sound of gunfire, pulling out a lighter from one of his jean pockets and lighting the dangling piece of cloth. "Bottoms up." He chucked the thing backhand beyond the pillar he hid behind, directly at the men shooting them.

The gunfire cut out, and there was a shout of, "Molotov! Scatter!" Elizabeth didn't even hear the sound of the bottle shattering on the ground before James sprinted out from his cover at the enemy.

Morbidly curious, she peeked her head out from behind cover to see what James was running towards.

She had never seen someone run so fast before.

In the span of a few seconds, he had cleared his way past the platform and gave a single leap across the train tracks onto the opposite platform. The jump seemed farther than he had anticipated, as he wobbled upon landing. The man in the black vest and grey slacks he had landed next to didn't at all seem happy to see James' sudden appearance. He took the butt of his tommy gun and swung at James.

That seemed to be all the motive James need to get moving again, dodging with that same unreal speed that she had seen before. He bobbed out of the way of the butt of the gun and somehow appeared at the triggerman's side. James closed the distance, wrapped his left arm around his enemy's neck, and delivered a swift punch with his free hand right to the triggerman's kidney. Blood began to pour out of the spot where the blow had landed, and as James landed a kick at the man's side to throw him face first onto the tracks, Elizabeth could see crimson gleaming off what looked like bladed knuckle dusters. Then he was moving again, sprinting with that superhuman speed at the nearest enemy, who in all this time had only just gotten his gun turned towards James.

In the distance, she saw the molotov land with a crash near a trio of gunners. Fire blossomed around them and began to char and melt their flesh. Screamed reached Elizabeth's ears, and she almost went back beneath her cover in fright. But she didn't.

Seeing that James wouldn't close the distance between himself and this triggerman in time for the triggerman to get a shot off, Elizabeth raised her pistol in shaking hands, aimed, breathed, and shot once.

It wasn't a particularly well aimed shot, only grazing the triggerman's leg when she had been aiming for center mass ( _"Always aim for center mass," his husky voice had told her, "It's a bigger target, harder to miss."_ ), but the shot was just enough for James to safely close the gap between the two and swipe his bladed fist at the triggerman's throat.

Blood began to ooze freely from the mafioso's throat, and he dropped his gun to reach both hands up and try to stop the bleeding. James collided with the exsanguinating man shoulder first. It was only after the rapid gunshots from other submachine guns started to fill the air again that Elizabeth noticed what he was doing.

James held the bleeding man between him and the rest of the triggermen, keeping the body of their friend between him and the rounds being thrown his way.

Elizabeth saw her moment and took aim with her pistol once again. _Aim, breath, fire_ , and one fell to the ground from a gutshot. Judging by the sounds of his screaming, he was in pain but nowhere near dying. She grimaced at the sound of the scream, but steeled herself by aiming once more. _Breath, fire._ What was meant to be a center mass shot landed square in the cheekbone of the triggerman closest to James' position. He fell to the ground, dead before he even hit it.

James moved, the man who had been keeping him from advancing suddenly having a bullet hole in his face. He charge forward, past the fallen forms of the men that had been shot in the head, beyond the men that had been burned, and made two final long-legged strides towards the last triggerman, who had the unfortunate luck to run out of ammo at that exact moment.

The ringing in the subway tunnel cut out for what was likely to be the last time as James threw a single solid punch right at the man's eye. The blades on the knuckle sunk in deep, and the triggerman dropped his gun as he fell to his knees. But somehow he kept moving, gently pushing at James form in one last attempt to fight off the inevitable. Elizabeth could hear a, "No, please, do-" come from the kneeling mad just as James pulled the bladed knuckle out of the triggerman's eye and drove it right back. He did it again. Then again. A fourth. The body fell limp to the ground.

Silence once more filled the space. Elizabeth looked around to see if there was anyone left. She could find only her newest companion still alive. He was scanning the platform too. "I think we're clear," he called out.

Elizabeth walked her way over to him, her pistol still held as firm as she could manage in shaking hands.

"You're not terrible with that pistol," he told her, his eyes still scanning around. "A bit unrefined, but not bad. You have any training?"

Elizabeth swallowed as she stepped her way past the charred corpses of the men who were burned by the molotov. "Um," she tried to say, but her voice almost failed her. She tried again. "My, uh. My husband, he-he insisted. Just a little practice. 'Just in case,' he would always say."

James nodded. "Smart guy. Given what happened to you, that seems like a smart call on his part." Then a crease entered his brow and he turned to look at her. "Actually, come to think of it; where is this guy? You mentioned being married yesterday, but why isn't he here with you trying to help you find your son?"

Elizabeth swallowed again, trying to ignore the smell of blood and smoking flesh and gunpowder that wafted through the air. She thought about her Andrew, sitting cold and lifeless in that damn pod, his violet eyes fixed wide open, a layer of frost covering every inch of him, that red hole in the dead center of his chest harshly contrasting against the blue of his vault suit. Then her mind did something horrible and wondered if Shaun would have his dark hair when he grew up, or his sharp chin, or the hawkish nose, or those brilliant eyes that would never _ever glow again and stare at her with that endless care and love and oh god Andrew please don't go I need-_

Elizabeth was snapped back to her thoughts when James reached a hand out and shook her gently. She stared at him, the tears almost brimming over, and for a brief moment she couldn't help but think how pathetic she probably seemed. She's nearly cried in front of this stranger twice in as many days. He must have thought her weak or something.

James stared back at her, those glacial eyes giving away little. Then he nodded, as though he knew _exactly_ what had just happened, and said, "Okay."

Elizabeth nodded and wiped a thumb at her eyes to get them clear. "Okay." She desperately thought for something to change the subject. Then she realized that he was holding her shoulder with the hand that was covered in blood and blades, both of which were mere inches from her face. She shook her shoulder. "Uh. Could you…?"

James glanced at his bloody knuckles and looked a bit chagrin. "Don't worry," he said. "It isn't my blood."

That made Elizabeth's stomach turn just a little. "Yeah, I know. That's what freaks me out." James took his hand off her shoulder, only leaving a small stain on the shoulder pad of her leather armor. "So. Punching things? You probably could have mentioned."

"Ah. Yeah. That." He wiped the blood off of his knuckle dusters onto the vest of the man he was just beating to death. He then proceeded to loot through the man's pockets. "Yeah, I probably should have said. It's been awhile since I've really traveled with someone. I'm used to dealing with firefights and the like alone." After coming up with a handful of caps and some rounds for a gun the dead man hadn't even been carrying, James moved onto the next guy. "Really should have taken the time to get down our roles in combat."

Elizabeth glanced at him in confusion as she bent down to start looting a different man, doing her best to not look at the lifeless face staring up at her. "Roles in combat? What do you mean?"

James rolled a hand at her without turning to look away from what he was doing. "Oh, you know. I'm an up close and personal kind of guy. I rush in and blitz them before they have the time to react. You seem to like to keep your distance and take them out carefully. That really works out for us, considering. I keep them off you by rushing in and aggroing the most attention, and you stay behind and pick off the ones I can't get to."

After finding very little on the body before her, Elizabeth stood and moved over to a different one a bit away, while James moved from the body in front of him to the one she had just been at. She gave him a look. "I just looked through that one."

Not even before she finished the sentence, James held his hand up to show her a fistful of caps that she had entirely missed in her search. He smiled. "Good thing I looked. Wouldn't want to miss this."

Elizabeth looked bewildered.

James just kept smiling. Perhaps looking just a bit too smug.

Elizabeth gave him a look and shook her head. "Okay," she said, getting back to the topic. "So you bull rush them and get as many as you can, and I stay back and shoot at them from afar."

"Right." He moved on to another body.

"I just have one question, a bit unrelated."

He looked up at her, standing from the last body they needed to loot. "Shoot."

"Why punch things?"

He tilted his head at her in a very dog-like manner of confusion. "What do you mean?"

Elizabeth stood as well, waving a hand. "I mean, why punch things? Wouldn't it be smarter to just shoot them?"

James smiled. "Not unless you know where to punch. And it just so happens that I do."

"Okay, but that doesn't really answer the question."

James crossed his arms and thought for a moment. "Well. I suppose I punch things because that's just what I've always done."

"How so?"

He shrugged. "Back when I was younger, still living in the vault, there was this asshole named Butch. He was mean, had some issues at home growing up, and decided that I was a good way to let off some steam. So he'd beat me. At first, I'd just take it. My father raised me to try and avoid fights whenever I could. But eventually, right around that time when teens start to get braver and stupider than they are smart, I just… Threw a punch back. Granted, it wasn't much of a punch; even now, I'm not all that particularly strong. But the simple fact that I had tried to fight back at all sent him running. He left me alone for the rest of the week.

"It clicked in my head that day that if I fought back, he would leave me alone. Now, my dad was a doctor and a scientist. He raised me with the kind of education that makes a five year old sound like a pre-med student, and by the time I was sixteen, I knew enough about anatomy that I could land a punch and make it count, even without all that much strength behind it. So, next time Butch came after me, I fought back. Lost about as many times as I won, but I started to learn, you know? How to land a punch, where to land a punch, when to block, when to take a hit, when to hold your punch for something better. And when it came time for my ass to be thrown out to the wastes, punching was what I was good at, aside from medicine. After that, it just stuck."

At some point, the two had begun walking further into the metro tunnel, making their way in what Elizabeth hoped was the direction toward the vault door. The walked down a shadowy tunnel, and she asked, "So, no real place for guns in your arsenal?"

James shook his head, bringing up that beast of a revolver he had looted from Hank the day before. "Nah, nothing like that. Guns are always gonna have a use. I just…" He looked at her, thoughtful. "What's that old adage? 'Learn to fight naked and you can never be disarmed'? It's a bit like that. I just so happen to use that particular weapon more than most."

Elizabeth nodded. "That makes sense, I guess."

"If you like, I could give you some pointers. Never a bad idea to learn to fight with every weapon you have."

Elizabeth paled at the thought of getting so close to a person she'd end up killing with her bare hands. Her stomach churning intensified. "Um. I think I'll pass. I don't really… I'd like to stay as far away as I can, if it's all the same."

James just shrugged. "Suit yourself. The offer stands if you change your mind." Then he stopped, holding his arm out in front of her to prevent her from moving any further. He started to whisper. "Hold up a second."

Elizabeth froze, looking out in front of them to see what he was focused on. In the dark, her eyes were poorly adjusted, and there were no lights above to help aid her sight. All she could see were the vague outlines of some construction equipment ahead, along with some rubble and dirt. In the distance, the only thing that seemed to be really lit, there was the massive vault door with the stencil numbers '114' printed in faded yellow. Other than that, she couldn't see anything.

"What?" She whispered back. "What is it?"

"Three people up ahead," he responded. "I think they're more of those wannabe mobsters. They don't seem to see us yet." Elizabeth could see the light glow of his baby blues turn to look at her. "Wait here. Get down low. I'm gonna try and take them out quietly. If that doesn't work and they get wise to me, find some cover and give support. Got it?"

Elizabeth nodded, but then suddenly thought that he probably couldn't see her nod in the dark, so she added, "Got it."

But there was no response. It took her a moment to realize the reflection of his eyes was no longer staring at her. She reached her hand out and felt the air around where he had been. She grabbed at empty air.

He was already on the move.

Slightly stunned at his silent disappearance, she did as she was instructed, finding her way forward a little until she hit a concrete barrier on a slightly elevated area of the tunnel that she hid behind.

She waited in the dark, her eyes somewhat adjusting the lighting, and more shape began to distinguish itself around her. She felt she could see well enough to get a bead on James, offer whatever cover she could manage. So, she twisted in her cover to only barely come out the top of the barrier and scanned the area in front of her.

Just on the outskirts of the lit area around the vault door, she could see a man, dressed in similar attire the others had been dressed in before, standing watch and looking out into the darkness. Further into the light, there was another man, a ghoul this time though still similarly dressed, also looking out into the darkness. Up on the catwalk that led up to the vault door was one last guy, sitting on a stool rest his arms on the railing behind him.

Suddenly, the one at the edge of the light stood up straight, bringing his gun up in a ready position. "Hey," he called to the others behind him. "You guys hear that?"

The ghoul rolled his eyes and rasped. "This is the third time, Toni. There ain't nothing out there. Fuck, quit being so jump. You killing my buzz."

The now identified Toni shook his head, still looking around. "Nah, man. There's something there. You heard the gunfire from the other. What if someone's down here?"

The one on the stool called out. "Probably just raiders thinking we'd be easy pickin's. They got eight guns on the entrance. No way some idiot would get past those boys. So cut your shit, man."

Toni fidgeted in his spot. "I'm gonna go look. Just be sure."

The two others didn't seem to really care, and let Toni walk his way slowly forward into the darkness.

Elizabeth followed his walk slowly with her eyes. When he was far enough into the darkness, something that she thought had just been part of a pile of rubble moved with lightning speed. In the dark, the two shapes became one for the briefest of moments, and then they fell back into the pile of rubble, out of Elizabeth's sight. The only sound uttered in the entire exchange was the clattering of Toni's gun hitting the floor.

A minute went by in silence.

Then a second.

A third.

Finally, the ghoul broke the silence. "Toni?" He shouted.

Silence.

"Toni? You good? Where'd you get off to?"

More silence.

The ghoul held his gun up at the ready. "Hey, Marlin. Something's fishy. Toni's gone quiet. Watch my back. Imma go look." Marlin, for his part, nodded as he stood, bringing his weapon to bear.

The ghoul, just as Toni had, crept slowly forward into the darkness. For almost half a minute, nothing happened and no one said anything. Then there was the sound of a cut off scream and a body hitting the floor.

Then silence once more.

Marlin started to shout at the darkness. "Reg? You good? Reg? Reg!" He got no answer back, and he started to panic. "Okay, you fuck. Come out the dark! I wanna look you in the eye when I blow your fucking brain out! You hear me, you fucking coward?! Get out here and fight me! What the fuck kinda man fights in the dark, huh?!" Then he just wordlessly screamed at nothing and unloaded his entire magazine, full auto, into the dark. His voice blended with the gunfire into a single noise of panic and fear.

Elizabeth ducked down as a few ricochets whizzed past. She waited there behind cover as the gunfire continued for a three count, then suddenly cut off.

There was the soft sounds of ragged breathing and the scraping of metal on metal; him trying to fumble a new magazine into the gun. He didn't get to finish.

A single, resounding gunshot roared in the darkness, and somewhere near that pile of rubble a shape was illuminated by the muzzleflash. Elizabeth couldn't make out much, only the distinct shape and color of a red hoodie.

Marlin fell to the ground, the back of his head exploding out and painting the vault door behind him.

Silence for one final time.

"Okay," she heard James' voice call out from the dark. "We're good to go. Let's get in there and find Valentine."

* * *

 **A/N: Silly and random Finding Nemo reference. Disney props to the person who can point it out.**

 **Thanks for Reading,**

 **~ThatBlueScreenGuy**


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